


The Gift

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Disabled Character, Depression, F/M, Fate, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, GH-325, Happy Ending, Identity Issues, Inhumans (Marvel), Lack of Communication, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Melancholy, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Shopping, Star-crossed, Terrigen, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future fic that begins in Season 2 with Coulson carving and then moves forward from there.  Coulson buys Daisy a gift, and then holds onto it, like the desperate man he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**1.**

He's in between his appointment with Andrew and his next flight.  
  
It's a nice day. He should go for a walk.  
  
He's still invisible, no one knows that SHIELD is still here among the living.  
  
They're like ghosts.  
  
The sunny weather makes the itch underneath his skin somehow more bearable.

He orders a pour-over coffee from the local shop he’s found and sips it in the crisp winter air.  
  
Andrew recommended he cut back on the caffeine, but one cup couldn't hurt.  
  
And usually Koenig's better about keeping his schedule tight, but, guess he can't complain right now.  He'll take advantage of it.

The sessions are helping. _Andrew_ is helping, and he never expected this is how they would reconnect, but he’s grateful.

He’d even like to bring him in, permanently. 

However, SHIELD being exposed at the moment just means this is a desperate attempt for him to hold himself together.

And then there’s May.  She wouldn’t like this at all.  
  
He sips from his cup and looks into the windows of the small shops.

Are woven ties really back in fashion?  
  
If you're a 20-something, maybe. It's giving him 80s flashbacks to his Academy days, and John working so hard to convince him that it looked perfect for a first date.  
  
John had been wearing turtlenecks with everything since the late 70s. Should've known better than to listen.

Dead giveaway he was HYDRA, he tells himself, snorting at him being such a snob.  
  
_Bitter._

That's probably a better word.

Andrew would say _resentment_. Sounds less bitter.  
  
He pauses on his stroll and looks down through the next window.  
  
_Skye._  
  
It looks like her to him. He tries to move on then stops, and turns back towards the store and stares at the window.  
  
He's barely speaking to her at the moment.

He shouldn’t.  
  
It's too...messy. _He is._

She doesn't need the distraction, and he’s not one to gift gifts that seem like an apology.

May says she's improving at a rapid pace and she's impressed and that's no easy feat.  
  
He can't derail that.  
  
But maybe, they'll find an answer to his carving? It won't have to _always_ be this way.  
  
The door pushes open easily and he walks straight to the counter.

 

**2.**

His fingers touch the small velvet bag in his pocket.  
  
The shape of the object inside. Two round stones and the thin silver band.  
  
She layers her jewelry.  This is simple enough.  
  
The tiny blue one reminds him of the formula, he's realizing too late. And the larger opal dotted like clouds in a nebula?  
  
What was he thinking? Impulsive.  Silly.

He's not sure if the ring will even fit. He just guessed.

She doesn't have small hands, does she?  
  
Strong ones.  
  
This would be the worst possible time to do this. It would be confusing.  
  
He's just glad she's alive.  
  
That's all that matters.  
  
She's resting now, trapped behind a wall of glass and protocols, and he wonders if she can really sleep or if she's half-awake.

He knows that feeling. 

Remembers it, then pushes the dark thoughts out.  
  
_A miracle._

 

**3.**

It's just a gift.  
  
He's allowed to give gifts to friends.  And that’s all that they are.

The color of the blue stone, though. It's more like… _Terrigen_.

Maybe it's time to toss it, let it go.   
  
The last thing they both need right now is that kind of reminder.  
  
It's in his underwear drawer, anyway. Where could it be safer?  
  
He chortles at himself for a moment, because the other thing is too...  
  
What does it matter now? He's half human, half a man.  
  
They can't fight the tide at all.  
  
He just has to look at what's ahead and stay focused on the future.  
  
Protect what he has while he still has it.  
  
He shouldn't even be here.  
  
Clearing his throat, suddenly feeling tired and empty, he takes out the little pouch and tosses it on his jeans laid out.

Everything placed carefully to make things easier for him now.  
  
Better to lock it away where he can't remember.  
  
Someone else can find it and wonder.

 

**4.**

He pulls open his desk drawer, rifling through it until he finds the button that will trigger the hidden compartment.

Next to the failsafe switch, there are a few personal things and his hand brushes against the soft velvet.

And he remembers.

He stares down at it.  
  
This isn't the right time.  
  
It's _never_ the right time.  
  
He grits his teeth, then grabs it and shoves it into his pocket.

Flips the switch.

HYDRA might have gotten in, but they're not getting back out.

 

**5.**

“What's this?”

It's not exactly a challenge, but he's _trying_.  
  
To be better. At saying things, rather than making plans that don’t happen the way he thought they would, anyway.

Or waiting.

They're partners.  
  
“It's a gift,” he says, extending his hand further.  
  
Slowly, she reaches forward and slides her fingers against his, drawing the small black pouch out of his hand.  
  
It hits him like a jolt of electricity.  
  
Like life coming back to him. He'd forgotten what that really felt like, while he’d been chasing after familiar comforts.

That weren’t so comfortable after all.  
  
She opens it in front of him and the ring falls into the center of her palm.  
  
Two years. He's had it almost that long.  To the day, even?  It hadn't even occurred to him.

Why not?  
  
Taking it between her fingers, she turns it over, examining it.

“Like us?”

She looks up at him curiously, then runs her finger over the two stones. Slips it on her finger, sudden and possessive.  
  
“Subconsciously, I think,” he admits, smiling his confession to her.

“Can I see?"  
  
He can only hope a little more.  
  
She answers by putting her hand out towards him.   
  
Those hands can do terrible and wonderful things.  He's seen it with his own eyes.

And be held, just like this.  
  
“It fits?” he asks, looking slowly up at her.

“It's a nice gift. Thanks.”  
  
She hangs on the word ‘gift’, like she's trying it out.  
  
They don't do things like this for each other.  
  
Admittedly, they do much scarier things, like fight Nazis and Inhumans that can sweep across the world like the plague.  
  
They also almost die trying to find each other in that.  
  
They don't do _this_.  
  
“It's more,” he starts.  If he's being honest, after all. “Than that.”  
  
“I was wondering,” she says gently.  
  
Not pushing. Never pushing.  
  
“But we should probably find out. In the interest of...exploration,” she teases.  
  
“Progress?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at her, too flirty, drawing her in closer by the hand, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him.  
  
He knows she can feel him, though. That was part of the problem.  
  
As hopeless as he's ever been, wanting to hide it, shove it down. And he can't from her.  
  
Then she slides her hands over his chest and he wraps his arms around her.  
  
“See?” she says, so close to him now, and he can’t remember the last time he had her in his arms.  
  
 “We fit.”  
  
He closes the tiny bit of distance left, pressing his mouth up against hers.  Wanting, still, after all of this time.

Even when he told himself he’d given up.

Then he pulls back and looks at her flushed cheeks and surprised eyes.

How has this happened?

They fit.

“Kiss me, Phil.”

He starts over again.  Slowly, this time.

They fit.


End file.
